Book 42 - Thy Will Be Done

by GailDunn2

WARNING: CONTAINS ADULT THEMES AND SITUATIONS. The ill-fated trip to the mountain continues, with shocking consequences.

13. Chapter 8 - Word Up

Chapter 8 - Word Up

Bob sat there across the table from the prisoner, shaking his head slowly. "Look, I want to help you, but you're going to have to help me, too. Whatever you tell me is confidential. Just between us. But, I need to know: Did you kill her, or not?"

Cas just sat there and looked at him for a moment. Finally, he said, "Do you mean to say that, whatever I tell you, you cannot tell anyone else?"

Bob nodded encouragingly. "That's right, Castiel." What a weird dude, the young Public Defender thought. He'd introduced himself to the prisoner when he'd first gotten here, using his full name and extending his hand for a shake. The man had looked at him blankly for a moment, and then he'd given a little nod, as if listening to a voice no one could hear. Then he shook with Bob, and introduced himself as Castiel. That was it. No last name.

There was another silence now, as Castiel appeared to be thinking it over. Then he said, "No. No, I did not kill Gail. I loved her. I asked her to be my wife."

Okie-dokie, Bob thought. Now, they were getting somewhere. "Well, that's good," he said heartily. "But you obviously know something you're not telling the cops, or you wouldn't be asking about confidentiality. Are you covering for someone else? Why did you tell the Sheriff that Gail died where you were arrested?"

"Because she did," Cas said, working his jaw. "And no, I am not 'covering for' someone else. If I thought that your justice would punish the one who did it, I would deliver him to you, quite happily."

Bob's forehead wrinkled. "What are you talking about? How am I supposed to defend you if you won't tell me what happened?"

"Defend me? I'm not asking you to defend me," Cas said. "I will plead guilty at the trial, and I will receive my punishment. The Sheriff told me that the penalty for murder in this state is death."

"That's only for premeditated murder," Bob said hastily. "First-degree. For second-degree, or manslaughter, the most severe penalty would probably be thirty years. Shorter, with good behaviour. But I'm confused, now. You told me you didn't kill her, and you said you're not covering for the guy who did it. So why the hell would you plead guilty, then?"

"To receive my punishment," Cas said again. He was looking at Bob as if it was the lawyer who was crazy. Bob made a notation on the legal pad in front of him: "Psych eval. ASAP."

"I will plead guilty to premeditated murder," Cas went on, as if talking to himself now. "I will tell them I asked her there for the express purpose of killing her. Then, if they do not believe me, I will tell them about the other people I've killed. There are quite a few."

Bob let out a frustrated breath. "OK, that's it. I came here to help you, and you're either screwing around with me, or you need mental help. Either way, if you're hell-bent on committing suicide, I'm not going to aid and abet you. We're pleading Not Guilty."

Cas sprang forward and grabbed Bob by the lapels of his suit. "You will do nothing!" he shouted. "I will take my punishment! It's what I deserve. Gail died because of me, and I will not live without her. Now that I am mortal, I will take the death penalty, and I will commend my spirit to God, to do with me as He sees fit. Now, get out!" He slammed Bob back down into his chair. Then he strode to the door of the interrogation room and pounded on the door. "Take me back to my cell," he said loudly. "We are done here."

Bob sat there stunned as two guards came to take Cas away. Jody was there too, and she looked at Bob with a curious expression.

"He needs to go for a psychiatric evaluation," the Public Defender said in a shaky voice. "I'll let you know once I'm able to set it up. And, Sheriff? Next time, you'd better leave him in the shackles."

Cas sat on the bunk in his cell with his head in his hands. He hadn't meant to scare that man. He knew that Bob was only attempting to do his job to the best of his ability. But Cas couldn't bear it any more. He needed to confess to his crimes, and he needed to be put to death. He knew that the attorney thought that he was insane, but he couldn't help what he had said. The man had said that what Cas uttered to him was confidential, and he'd felt an overwhelming need to tell the truth to someone. He might as well have taken his own blade to Gail by telling Jason where they were going to be, that day. He'd had no business courting her at all, not as the kind of individual that he had been when they had met. He only prayed that God the Father wouldn't hold his poor judgement against Gail this time.

God checked "Diligence" off the list of Virtues. He knew that his Son was sincere about wanting to atone for all of the murders he had committed while he had been left in charge of Heaven. Castiel knew that he was entirely mortal now, yet he was willing to stand up in court and confess to a crime he hadn't committed in order to give Gail's family closure, and to receive his execution. God was aware that His Son was stubborn enough to persist until the humans would have no choice but to put him to death. It wasn't as if that particular scenario was without precedent. Castiel had pled guilty at the tribunal to try to save Gail. But this time, as it had been back then, it was too late. Or, was it? God hadn't decided yet. Castiel had one Virtue left to demonstrate, and it was going to be the hardest one of them all.

The days dragged on into weeks, which dragged on into months. If Castiel hadn't been crazy the day he had met the Public Defender for the first time, he certainly should be by now, the prisoner thought.

The day of his trial had finally dawned, and Cas was dressing in the suit that had been provided for him. It was astonishing how much ritual and ceremony was involved in these proceedings. In Biblical times, he would have been executed the moment he had been taken by the authorities, whether he had confessed to the offense or not. It was no wonder people became frustrated, wanting to take matters into their own hands. And in fact, Cas had heard the guards at the jail talking about Gail's brother Frank, who had threatened to bring a gun into the cellblock and render the trail moot, and for an instant, he had been jubilant. By all means, let him come. Let Frank come and exact justice for Gail's family. Cas would welcome him with open arms. The very thought that Frank wished to exact vengeance for the murder of the sister he loved had raised Castiel's esteem for him immeasurably. But then, his excitement faded away as he realized that he could not allow Frank to do that. As appealing and expeditious as that sort of justice would be, Castiel could not allow it. Because in human society, Gail's brother would then go to prison and be put on trial, himself. His life would be ruined, and he and Jody would never be able to marry. No, Castiel couldn't have that on his conscience. The weight of the guilt he felt for Gail's death was already sitting much too heavily on his shoulders.

But he needn't have been concerned, because Frank did not come. Jody was a police officer who "went by the book", as the expression went. Cas was given to understand that meant that she would bend over backwards to make sure that everything was done properly, and that Castiel received what the humans called "due process". He had asked Bob what that meant, the next time the Public Defender had come to see him. Apparently, Bob was also the sort of person who meant to ensure that Castiel received his "due process", because after Castiel's original outburst, Bob had returned, vowing not to give up on him. Bob had explained due process to him, and Castiel had been astonished. Here he was, in prison, eager to confess to the murder for which he had been arrested, and Bob was telling him that he wasn't allowed to do so? No; rather, he was going to be sent to a psychiatrist for tests, to see if he was insane. That was the way that Cas understood it, anyway. If the doctor determined that he WAS insane, there was no chance that he would receive the death penalty, Bob had said proudly. But even if Cas was to be judged to be of sound mind, Bob had more than a few ideas about how to defend Castiel. The investigators had searched the park, even dredged the lake, and they hadn't found Gail's body. If there was no body, how could they even prove that a murder had occurred at all? Castiel was overwrought over the disappearance of the woman he loved. Even if he wasn't clinically insane, that didn't mean that he couldn't be a little confused, maybe. Bob had a number of tricks up his sleeve; if he could sit a sympathetic jury, he might even be able to get an acquittal, by virtue of "reasonable doubt", he had told Castiel.

The entire time that Bob was speaking, Cas just sat there, astonished. He was the one who was to be tried for murder, yet this man didn't seem to care one iota about how Cas himself actually wanted to proceed. Was this what all Earth trials were like? If so, how was true justice ever achieved? Castiel was a self-confessed killer, who was fed and clothed, receiving every sort of care and consideration, while his poor, beloved Gail lay long dead, and her family and friends were suffering from grief and anger. It was so very, very wrong, in so many ways.

But it seemed as if he would be getting his due process anyway, whether he wanted it or not. Bob had informed Cas that he would be going for his psychiatric evaluation in a months' time. A month?! he had exclaimed. Yes, Bob had confirmed. The Christmas holidays were coming up soon, and many of the court-appointed psychiatrists were either booked solid, or out of town. But that was okay, because the trial couldn't possibly start for a few more months anyway, due to the waiting list on the court docket.

Then Bob was gone, and Cas sat miserably in his cell, on the verge of tears. Christmas. He remembered accompanying Gail to that Christmas party at her friend Dean's house. That was the first and only event of its kind that he and Gail had attended together, and Castiel had been overwhelmed by the number of humans there, and the noise and the boisterousness of the celebration. He had initially thought that he would rather have Gail all to himself, but then when he had realized how much she was enjoying herself, Cas had relented. He could have her to himself on many other occasions. Others obviously enjoyed her company, too. He had felt inexplicably proud of that fact, even though none of the credit for it belonged to him, of course. Cas had also realized that to some of the attendees, he must seem like an odd individual. He neither ate nor drank, and he knew his speech was stilted and formal, much of the time. He had been planning to ask Gail for her opinions on some of the modern slang expressions, to see which ones she favoured. But he'd thought that they would have many years ahead of them for her to teach him more about human ways. Now, Christmas was coming, and her family and friends would be without her, thanks to him. And what would Castiel be doing? Eating turkey, and waiting for his psychiatric evaluation.

He called for a guard, advising that he would like to make a phone call.

"Look, I have no idea why you called me," Dean said to Castiel as he glared at the prisoner from the other side of the table. "The only reason I came here, the ONLY reason, is to ask you: Did you kill Gail?"

Cas was confused now. Bob had told him not to say anything to anyone, not until his psychiatric evaluation. "I'm not supposed to say," he replied hesitantly.

"You just did, you son of a bitch," Dean said through clenched teeth. "That's not something an innocent person would say. An innocent man would be hopping up and down on this table, shouting that he was innocent. Instead, you've got some hotshot lawyer, trying to get you off. Oh, well. That's OK. Go ahead and pretend you're crazy, if you want. But, we know better. Me and Sammy and Frank used to hang around with you. You remember Frank, right? Gail's brother? You're damn lucky they have those metal detectors at the courthouse, by the way. Actually, you're damn lucky that Jody warned him if he came within a mile of this place, she was gonna have him arrested, just on general principles. But, don't you worry. We're not going to let Frank go to jail. Not over a cowardly douchebag like you."

Dean sat back in his chair, trying to catch his breath after his angry rant. He should just stand up and walk out of here, right now. But, he was still curious: "Why did you call me?"

Cas sighed. "I wanted you to pass a message along to Gail's family for me," he said morosely, as Dean stared at him incredulously. "Please tell them I loved Gail with all my heart. Please tell them that I hope the Almighty Father will allow us all to be together again, once I receive my punishment."

"Is that a threat? Are you threatening them? 'Cause if you are, you and I are gonna have a problem," Dean growled. "Gail was my friend, too."

Cas smiled reflexively. It was wonderful to see and hear how many people loved Gail. But Dean's expression darkened even more, if such a thing was possible. "You ARE nuts," the elder Winchester said dazedly. "Either that, or..." He reached into his pocket, and Cas's heart sped up excitedly for a moment. Maybe Dean had a weapon. Maybe Dean was finally going to put him out of his misery.

But Dean had been frisked before he'd been let into the visitors' room, of course, and there was no way he would have brought a weapon, anyway. He and his wife had a baby, and he didn't intend to go to jail, either.

What he brought out was a vial of Holy water, and he uncorked it and splashed it in Cas's face. Then, he waited expectantly. Dean didn't know why he didn't think of this before. They'd never seen the guy eat or drink, and he acted like he wasn't even human. Demon, maybe?

Cas sputtered, but then he smiled again, licking the water from his lips. "Why are you dousing me with Holy water?" he asked Dean, bemused.

Dean stared at him. The guy wasn't snarling or writhing, and the skin wasn't burning off his face. Castiel was smiling gently, looking like he was enjoying the experience.

"What ARE you?" he asked Cas. "If you're not a Demon, what the hell ARE you?"

Oh. Cas understood, now. "You know about Demons?" he said, surprised. As Dean nodded, Cas decided to take a risk: "So, does that mean that you believe in Angels, as well?"

So Cas told Dean as much of the truth as he thought would be prudent, and eventually, Dean was convinced. Castiel was the way he was because he was an Angel of the Lord. Well, that sure explained a lot of things, didn't it? Like why he didn't eat or drink, and why he didn't seem to understand half of the stuff Gail's friends talked about. And how he'd known that was Holy water that Dean had splashed in his face. In a rare moment of humour, Cas had told Dean that if he'd been able to swallow any, he would probably have been able to tell him which person of the cloth had blessed it.

And that had been it. As soon as Dean had become convinced that Cas was an Angel, he didn't ask him any more questions about Gail's murder. There was no way an Angel of the Lord murdered Frank's sister. No way. But, he did have some advice for Cas.

"Don't tell the shrink you're an Angel," Dean told him.

"The...'shrink'? I don't understand that reference," Cas said, puzzled, and for a moment, the men looked at each other as if they recalled a different time and place where Castiel might have said the same thing to Dean. But the moment passed, and Dean let out a breath.

"The psychiatrist," he tried again. "Don't tell the psychiatrist you're an Angel, or he'll tell your lawyer you're nuts. You didn't tell your lawyer that, did you?"

"No, I didn't, Dean," Cas declared. "But even if I had, he wouldn't be allowed to tell anyone. It's called 'attorney-client confidentiality'," he added proudly.

Dean stared at Cas. The guy had no idea how he came across. Hopefully, his lawyer knew his stuff, because they were gonna crucify Cas in court, otherwise. But now, it occurred to Dean to ask: "If you're an Angel, how come you're still here in jail? Why don't you just - " he waved his hand - "poof?"

Cas smiled again. Boy, his lawyer was going to have to tell him to stop doing that. Men who were on trial for murdering women shouldn't be sitting in court, grinning. "I'm so glad you asked, Dean," Cas said, seemingly oblivious to all of that. "It's because I need to stay here, and take my punishment. Please, tell Gail's family that. I will plead guilty at the trial, and I will receive the death penalty. Then hopefully, because I have done the right thing, God the Father will be merciful, and allow Gail and I to be together, and to see you all again. Please deliver that message, Dean."

Aww, geez. Now Cas was looking at him with an expression that, in the correct timeline, would be his puppy dog look. There was no way this guy was a cold-blooded killer. No way.

Dean sighed, rising from his chair. "OK, I'll pass along the message." He walked over to the door of the visitors' room and knocked on it. Then he looked back at the prisoner, who was chained and shackled to the table. Ever since that first incident with Bob, the cops were taking no chances. "Cas?" Dean said to him.

"Yes, Dean?" the mortal Angel asked.

"Good luck, Cas," Dean said softly, and when the guards came to let him out of the room, Cas was smiling gently again.

Castiel's psychiatric evaluation came and went, and the doctor reported to Bob that, although Cas was obviously a bit of an odd duck, he hadn't tested in any way insane, either by the medical or legal definition. So, there went that strategy. But the instant everyone was gathered in the courtroom and the judge asked Bob for the defendant's plea, Cas stood up and said, "I am guilty."

Bob dropped the file he'd been holding onto the table. "Sidebar, Your Honour?" he said irritably. He and the prosecutor moved closer to the bench as the spectators murmured.

Frank was sitting beside Dean in the front row behind the prosecutors' table. "See? I told you," Dean said softly to Gail's brother. Frank was frowning, staring intently at Cas. He didn't know what the hell to think, any more. Frank trusted his friend and business partner, so he believed that Dean believed that Cas was an Angel of the Lord. But even if Frank drank the Kool-Aid and believed it too, where did that leave him, exactly? With a missing and presumed-dead sister, a mother who was so devastated that she couldn't even bring herself to come to the courtroom, and a father who'd told his son that he had better not go, or Jim was going to strangle Cas with his bare hands. Frank had felt the same way; in fact, a very large part of him still did, Angel or no Angel. But he'd had to come, if for no other reason than just to see what the guy had to say for himself. Dean had said that Cas was going to plead guilty. Could they at least get him to confess to what he'd done with Gail's body? Could Frank and his parents at least bury her then, and get closure on this whole, sickening, heartbreaking mess, then?

There was one other thing that Dean had shared with Frank: Dean didn't believe for a second that Cas had actually killed Gail. The guy was an Angel, for God's sake. Pun definitely intended. If Frank was prepared to believe that Cas was an Angel, then how could be believe that Cas had murdered his sister? Dean had argued.

Frank had been wrestling with that concept. Dean had a very good point. But Gail hadn't been Dean's sister, she had been Frank's, and Frank wanted...what? What did he want? Well, he wanted his sister back, that was what he wanted. But if he couldn't have that, he wanted his pound of flesh. He didn't pretend to understand all that religious gobbledy-gook that Dean had told him Cas had said. Their family had never been religious, really, and even if they had been, the stuff about God was way above Frank's pay grade. But, punishment? Now, THAT was a concept he could get behind.

Even though Cas didn't have any Angelic powers right now, he could feel Frank's gaze boring into the back of his head. When Castiel and Bob had first entered into the courtroom, Cas's eyes had been drawn to Frank and Dean immediately. The defendant had been disappointed that they had been the only ones, though. He'd wanted all of Gail's family and friends to hear his confession. But today was just the first day of the trial. Despite Castiel's best efforts, Bob had insisted on mounting a defense for him. That meant that he had intended to call a few witnesses, including the psychiatrist who Cas had seen. That fact had confused Cas. Hadn't Bob told him that whatever he told these professionals was confidential? Then, how could Dr. Bridgman testify to what they had spoken about? Bob had explained that if it was an evidentiary matter in a capital case, the psychiatrist was allowed to testify as to his own professional opinion whether the defendant was insane, or not. But there were differing degrees of insanity, too. Cas was not an unintelligent man, but he was completely at sea now. How did that work? Either you were insane, or you weren't. Castiel came from a very black and white background. In Biblical times, there had been no such things as due process, Public Defenders, or "not guilty by reason of insanity". A man was guilty of murder if he had murdered someone; it was as simple as that. And regardless of what his mental state might have been at the time, his execution would be swift, and likely brutal. Castiel liked Earth and humans now, but at times, he really missed the olden days.

Bob was talking to the judge now, as Frank sat fuming, and Cas stood stoically at the defendant's table.

"He's trying to commit suicide by jury, Your Honour," the Public Defender said earnestly.

"Or maybe he's just guilty," the DA said dryly.

Judge Curtis let out a frustrated breath. Why did these things always have to be so complicated? He was due to retire in less than a year from now, and every year he'd been on the bench trying capital cases, the lines between guilty and innocent got more and more blurred. "Suicide by jury", indeed. But he didn't want one of his last cases to go to a mistrial, so he looked at Bob and said, "What is your intention, here? Do you have a case to present?"

"Yes, I do, Judge Curtis. I intend to show that my client is so distraught about losing the woman he loves that he wants to die. That's why he insists on pleading guilty."

"Awww," the DA said sarcastically. "If the poor little snowflake is upset she's dead, maybe he shouldn't have killed her."

"Last I looked, you don't have a dead body, or any evidence, for that matter," Bob said tartly. "I can't even believe you were able to bring this thing to trial. Must be nice to have connections."

"Settle down, gentlemen," the Judge said sternly. "How about this, then? If both of you, and the Defendant, will agree to waive the jury, we can just have a bench proceeding. It sounds like there isn't much testimony to present on either side, anyway. Let's move it along."

The opposing lawyers looked at each other. "It's fine by me if it's fine with the killer - I mean, your client," DA Davidson said sarcastically. He and Bob had faced off in court before, and the young Public Defender had won a couple of acquittals the DA thought he'd had no business winning. Davidson knew his case was weak, and completely circumstantial. But he was tired of losing to this guy, and the victim's brother had given him a picture of Gail, and a fairly impactful statement. The Sheriff who had arrested the defendant was prepared to testify to the admission he had made when she and the other officer had arrested him, and while it hadn't actually been a confession, per se, she was also going to testify to the fact that the man had smiled when he had made the admission. It had given the DA a chill, when he had heard that.

Bob had made a face at Davidson when the man had made his crack about Castiel, but inside, Bob was rejoicing. A bench trial was already a win, in his opinion. Judge Curtis was an old-school, no-nonsense jurist, who wouldn't be swayed by sketchy "evidence", like a jury might. The way that the judicial system currently worked, judges usually made an extra effort to give defendants the benefit of the doubt. Bob was certain that once Judge Curtis saw the lack of tangible evidence Davidson was going to present, the tide would turn in Castiel's favour.

And it would have, too, if the prosecution had not received a huge gift. The very next day, as Judge Curtis had been about to dismiss the case for lack of evidence, a man sauntered into the courtroom and announced that he wanted to testify for the prosecution.

And that was when Castiel went into a towering rage.

The Bailiff deposited Cas into a chair at the conference table of an anteroom which was located down the hall from the courtroom. The Defendant had become more docile once he had been removed from the room, but for a minute there, Hector had thought that they were going to have an actual murder happen, right there in the courtroom.

Cas had calmed down physically by the time Bob entered the anteroom, but inside, he was still fuming. But Bob was mad, too.

"Are you going to behave yourself, if I tell Hector he can leave us alone to talk?" Bob asked Cas dryly. "Or should I just bill you for a new suit jacket right now?"

Cas looked at him for a moment, and then his lips twitched. That was the sort of thing that Gail or Dean might have said to him, and the quip had disarmed him. "Yes, I'll behave myself," he told his lawyer.

Hector shrugged, taking the cuffs off of Castiel's wrists. "OK. Yell if you need me. I'll be right outside." He threw Cas a quick glare and then left the room.

As Cas massaged his wrists, Bob sat down heavily in the chair next to him. "You wanna tell me what that was all about?" he asked his client impatiently. "We were just about to get a dismissal. I'm sure we were. Then some guy comes in off the street, and suddenly, you're acting like a raving psycho!"

Cas pursed his lips tightly. Yes. "Some guy". There were a lot of epithets he could call Crowley right now, but that wouldn't be one of them.

"Look, Cas, now's not the time to clam up on me," Bob fretted. "It's obvious you know that man. If he's got something on you, you have to tell me, now."

Cas's mind was racing. Why was Crowley here? He could only be here to lie on the stand, and testify that Castiel had killed Gail. Could the King of Hell turn out to be the best ally that Cas could ever hope for?

He had been livid when his brother had strolled into the courtroom, acting as if he had any right to be there. There was Crowley, looking smug and self-satisfied, standing just a couple of feet away from the brother of the woman he had killed so callously, and no one there had any idea. Cas had wondered for a brief instant if Dean might recognize the King of Demons, but the elder Winchester gave no sign.

The blood had rushed to Cas's ears and he had leapt from his seat, shouting incoherently. Raging at the temerity of Crowley to walk into that courtroom. Smirking, while Gail's blood was on his hands. That was when the Bailiff had grabbed Cas from behind and slapped the cuffs on him, and the Judge had rapped his gavel sharply and instructed the Bailiff to remove Cas from the courtroom.

He was still enraged, of course, but now, Cas was considering the situation. If Crowley had come here to testify against him, that could only be a good thing, in this instance. He too had sensed that the Judge had been getting ready to dismiss the case. There wasn't really any hard evidence that a murder had even been committed. Not even poor Gail's body. The Almighty must have taken her away, Himself. But, as Bob had pointed out, if there was no body and no weapon recovered, how could her disappearance be tied to Cas? In fact, Bob was not willing to stipulate that there had even been a murder, in the first place. Maybe Gail had just run away. No, not run away; GONE away. She was a grown woman, wasn't she? Even though she was still in her parents' house, she was of age. Maybe she'd found her parents' rules to be a little too stifling. Frank's jaw had clenched so tightly when he'd said that, that Gail's brother thought he might have cracked a tooth. That was total b.s. Okay, maybe their mom was a little overprotective when it came to his younger sister. Frank had even commented on that himself, from time to time. But there was no way that Gail would have just up and left town by herself, not without telling anybody where she was going. No way.

Jody had taken the stand to testify to the circumstances surrounding Cas's arrest. What she'd said that Cas had said sounded very damning. But then Bob brought out a number of issues on cross-examination. Who was the man who had come into the station house that day, telling them where they could find Castiel, and making wild accusations about him? They didn't know, Jody admitted. When they'd tried to find the witness to interview him again, Raphael had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth.

Fine. Great, Bob had said. So they had arrested Castiel based only on this mysterious person's say-so? Not exactly, Jody had said, frowning. But yes, they had gone there to talk to him, and to bring him to the station house for questioning. Had Jody read him his rights? Yes, of course she had. Then, Castiel had made the admission that Gail had died there, where they had found him. That was it? Bob had prompted. Was that all he had said? Jody had sighed. He had also said that he'd loved Gail. But, that had been it. Then Bob brought out the fact that Jody and the victim's brother were in a relationship, and then he'd sat down, having scored as many points as he possibly could.

Davidson had floundered after that. He had planned on calling Frank to the stand to sneak in some sympathy with a jury, but since that wasn't an option any more, he hadn't known where to go from there. Judge Curtis would probably put him in jail for contempt if he tried that, just for wasting the Court's time. Juries were much easier to manipulate.

So the DA had rested his case, such as it had been, figuring that he would be able to backdoor something incriminating when the psychiatrist took the stand. But Bob didn't end up calling Dr. Bridgman to the stand, because he didn't really need to. Besides, he'd known that the psychiatrist would testify that Castiel wasn't either clinically or legally insane. Why give Davidson an opportunity to make something out of that? Bob had been planning to use Dr. Bridgman's testimony to illustrate Castiel as a confused, heartbroken man, who had no more answers than the rest of them. Hadn't he told the psychiatrist that he was despondent over the death of the woman he loved? Well, that was obviously why he had said that he was guilty. After these proceedings were over, Bob would make sure that Castiel received the help he needed to get over his depression.

And that had pretty much been that. As Judge Curtis had been picking up his gavel, preparing to dismiss the proceedings and lambaste DA Davidson for wasting everyone's time, that man had walked into the courtroom, and the defendant had lost it.

Cas was still looking at his defense counsel. Why mince words? "Yes, I do know that man," he said calmly. "He is here to testify against me. He will say that I killed Gail."

Bob let out a breath. "WHY will he say that, Cas?" he said as patiently as he could. "Who is he?"

"He is my brother, and he will say it because it is the truth," Cas insisted.

For an instant, Bob contemplated murder, himself. "What do you mean?" he said angrily. "You said you DIDN'T do it!"

"I also said that I intended to plead guilty, and I also said that I did not want you to mount a defense," Cas pointed out. "Yet, here we are."

Bob glared at his client. This was what he got for being a Public Defender, he supposed. What he wouldn't give to be in private practice, making a tidy living defending wealthy, respectable clients. Instead, he got the weirdoes; the space cases. He sighed again. Sighs were an occupational hazard for Bob.

"I'll tell Judge Curtis you're sorry for your outburst. Then, I'll see if I can find out what your brother plans to say on the stand. What's his name?"

Cas eyed his attorney balefully. "It's whatever he says it is," he replied, somewhat nonsensically.

Of course. Of course it was. Bob was going to check his investment portfolio after this case was over. See if he couldn't skip a meal or two here or there so that he could sock away a little bit more for his retirement fund. If he had to do THIS for much longer, he would be as crazy as most of his clients.

When they were all reassembled in the courtroom, the DA said, "I call Alaistair Hudson to the stand."

Crowley sat down in the witness chair, and then he grinned widely as the clerk presented him with the Bible.

"Do you swear to tell the entire truth?" the clerk intoned, as the King of Hell placed his hand on the tome. "Oh, yes, indeed," Crowley said gleefully as Castiel glowered at him. But Cas had to keep himself under control now. Crowley was here to be his deliverance.

"What is your relationship to the defendant?" Davidson asked him.

"We are brothers," Crowley said calmly. Cas's bile rose, but so far, Crowley wasn't lying. The evidence was right there, in that Book that the clerk had just put away.

"So you would have no reason to lie about what you are about to testify to, then," the DA remarked.

Bob popped up from his chair. "Objection! That wasn't even a question!" he protested. "And besides, last time I looked, being someone's brother doesn't preclude them from lying!"

"I swore on the Bible, my good man," Crowley sniffed, affecting a tone of disdain. "Anyone who knows me knows how much that means to me."

Cas's hands had curled into fists. He was trying to take deep breaths, now. He had to stay cool, as the humans would say. He was so close now. Crowley liked to have his fun, but if Cas would just remain patient a little while longer, he would have what he had been seeking.

And, God ticked off the last Virtue: Patience. Except for Castiel's very brief outburst when Crowley had first arrived, which was perfectly understandable, His Son Abel was reigning himself in now as Cain sat smirking, touching the Bible and making his little jokes. But Crowley wasn't done yet.

"Sustained," Judge Curtis said in response to Bob's objection. "Let's hear what the witness has to say."

"Who killed Gail?" the DA asked Crowley, getting straight to the point.

Crowley smiled again, staring directly at Castiel. "I did," the King of Hell confessed.

Judge Curtis rapped his gavel furiously as several things happened at once. Frank jumped up from his seat. "Oh, come on! You've gotta be kidding me with this!" he shouted. Dean and Sam, who had joined the proceeding during the recess, grabbed Gail's brother by the arms in an effort to encourage him to sit down. Frank going to jail for contempt would be all they would need right now.

The prosecutor was staring at Crowley, open-mouthed. That wasn't what what they had discussed; not at all. Alaistair had informed the DA that he was here to make sure that the poor, unfortunate girl's killer received his just punishment. Sounded right to the prosecutor. But what the hell was the man trying to pull now?

Meanwhile, Bob was sitting back in his chair, trying not to smile. Look at the look on Davidson's face. He had been as smug as anything when Bob had asked him for a preview of Hudson's testimony. He was going to testify that his brother had murdered Gail, of course, Davidson had said. Alaistair had witnessed the act personally. Bob's heart had sunk, but he had told himself to wait and see. If all they had was Castiel's brother's word for it, as far as Bob was concerned, his testimony was useless. So he was the defendant's brother; so what? There were a ton of brothers who had fractious relationships, going all the way back to Cain and Abel, he'd thought, unaware of the extreme irony of his thinking. He may or may not even bother to cross-examine the man, depending on what he said.

But now, Castiel's brother was sitting there calmly, stating that he himself had killed the victim? This was unbelieveable! But even as Bob was smiling, Cas was frozen in shock. What?! Why was Crowley telling them the truth? Of all the lies that he had told over all of the millennia they had both existed, why now, and why this? Cas had thought that Crowley would practically be turning cartwheels and rubbing his hands together with glee at the opportunity to send Castiel to his execution. Cas was sure that Crowley knew that he was completely mortal right now; otherworldly beings could always tell, and the King of Hell knew more than he should about a myriad of things, anyway. He always had. He should be chomping at the bit to have a mortal Castiel put to death. Castiel would have been, had the situation been reversed. In fact, he would be shouldering the executioner aside, if given the chance to execute his brother. It would be only fair, since Crowley kept on killing him.

Judge Curtis finally achieved a modicum of order, after rapping the gavel a number of times. "I will see Counsel in my chambers," he said sternly, rising from his chair. "Let's go, gentlemen."

Hector had moved a little closer to the defendant, keeping a close eye on him in case he showed any signs of misbehaving, now that the Judge had left the room. But Cas just sat there, continuing to lock eyes with Crowley. Cas had disconnected now, trying to keep his emotions in check. What was Crowley's gambit? Why would he be attempting to exonerate Castiel? This made absolutely no sense to him. None.

Crowley's lips were twitching. He could see the little hamster wheels turning in Castiel's head. His poor little wounded, mortal, brother. Castiel had now given the term "mortal enemy" a whole new meaning, Crowley thought with jolly good humour. He glanced at the court reporter. Too bad he couldn't work some of these quips into his testimony.

"Why is that little twerp smirking?" Frank fumed.

"I'm completely confused now," Sam remarked.

"I think he's just trying to get Cas off the hook," Dean said. "He's his brother, isn't he?"

"Oh, right. So he's gonna confess to a murder and go to jail for a capital offense just to get his brother off?" Frank said skeptically.

"Why not? I would," Dean stated.

"Good to know," Sam quipped lightly.

"Nahhhh, there's something fishy going on, here," Frank said, his eyes narrowing. "Look at the way they're looking at each other. It looks like Cas is getting ready to - "

The Judge entered the courtroom abruptly, with the two attorneys trailing behind. "Continue with your case, Mr. Davidson," the jurist said in a clipped tone.

The prosecutor sighed. He wasn't actually sure if he wanted to ask his witness any more questions. But he was determined to get to the bottom of this: Was Alaistair just screwing around now, trying to create reasonable doubt for his brother? When the DA had first talked to him, he had insisted that he had personally seen Castiel kill Gail, and he'd claimed that he had proof.

"Mr. Hudson, did you, or did you not, tell me that you have video evidence of the murder?" the DA said with an edge to his voice.

"Yes, I did," Crowley confirmed.

"Then why did you lie just now, and say that YOU did it?" Davidson said, exasperated.

"Who says I lied?" Crowley said, his lips twitching again. "I said that I had video which showed the poor girl's murder, and I do." He reached into his pocket and produced a cell phone, which he extended to the attorney.

Davidson took it, staring at the witness suspiciously. Crowley was used to that particular look. "It's all queued up and ready to go," the King said, nodding encouragingly. The DA took the phone to the court clerk, who plugged the cell phone into her computer. She clicked a few times, and then the image came up on the screen.

"Dim the lights, please," the Judge asked her, and the clerk clicked twice more. Then the image from Crowley's cell phone was projected onto the wall at the side of the room where the jury would normally be seated.

And the image showed Crowley plunging a long blade into Gail's chest, as Castiel ran forward, shouting at him to stop.

Another outburst, another series of gavel raps. Judge Curtis was amazed that the little wooden instrument was still in one piece, considering how much punishment it had taken over the past couple of days.

"I will have order!" the Judge shouted. He looked at Hector. "Take the witness into custody," he instructed the Bailiff. "Have the defendant taken back to his cell, too. Take that cell phone to the Forensics Department, and have them do their thing. I want to know if that video is legitimate. Court will adjourn until we have an answer." The Judge rapped the gavel one more time, and finally, it split in two. He sat there looking at the pieces for a moment. Maybe somebody was trying to tell him something.

By the time the clerk bade everyone to rise, Judge Curtis had already risen from the bench himself, and left the courtroom.

Frank and Jody were sitting at Dean's kitchen table when Gail's brother got the call: court was being reconvened.

"Great," Frank said, swigging the rest of his coffee. He'd been on pins and needles during the past week, wondering how that farce of a trial was going to end. He knew that videos could be doctored and that people lied all the time, but his head spun with so many unanswered questions. Who the hell had actually killed Gail? Both of the brothers had sat there in court, saying they did it. Which of them was telling the truth?

Crowley and Castiel had been in separate cells on separate blocks in the prison, but when word came that the trial was going to reconvene, they were put in adjoining cells in the holding area, awaiting transportation to the courthouse.

The King of Hell could have winked them all over there, of course, even though Castiel couldn't, at the moment. That fact was not lost on Cas. The instant they were left alone, he asked his brother, "Why are you still here? Why did you come at all?"

"Why, to make sure you receive your sentence, Castiel," Crowley replied calmly.

Cas was completely confused now, and more than a little angry. "Then why did you tell them that YOU killed her?!" he exclaimed. "If they believe that, I will be exonerated!"

"Exactly," Crowley said, smirking. "If they put you to death while you're mortal, your suffering will end. But if you're set free, you have to live with that guilt you're carrying around in your Angelic bosom for the rest of your existence. And if our Father restores you to your former status, which I have no doubt that He will, that'll be a long, long time."

Cas stared at his brother, astonished. Crowley was right. The King of Hell's action hadn't been designed to end Castiel's torment at all, but to prolong it indefinitely. Finally, he said, "If they set me free, I'll just commit suicide, then."

Crowley was amused. "Fine. Do that. Then you can join Jason in toiling away for me. Your ancient laws were never revised. Therefore, suicides automatically get sent to Hell. Your choice, Castiel."

"What do you mean, 'the laws were never revised'?" Cas asked the King, his eyes narrowing. What a strange thing to say.

But before Crowley could answer, assuming that he would have been inclined to do so, the guards came to take the men to the courtroom.

"In all the years I've been on the bench, I've never seen such a farce," Judge Curtis said, frowning deeply. He glared at the DA. "If I ever again adjudicate a hearing at which you are the prosecutor, Mr. Davidson, I will recuse myself. You know, just because you have relatives in high places, that doesn't mean that you can, or should, bring anything and everything to trial. There was a little thing we had back in my day. It was called 'evidence', and in this case, you had absolutely none. Not a scrap. I kept waiting to see some. And then, finally, I did. I saw a video of the murder, which our Forensics Department tells me is one hundred percent legitimate. Not doctored at all. But that video exonerates the Defendant, and incriminates his own brother, your witness! If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that this whole thing was an elaborate prank. But guess what, Mr. Davidson? I'm not laughing. Maybe a week in lockup will convince you not to waste the Court's time in the future."

Then the Judge looked at Bob and Castiel. "The Defendant will rise," the Judge said, and both men stood up. Judge Curtis sighed. "I can only come to the conclusion that defense counsel was right," the Judge said. "If you are so despondent over that unfortunate woman's death that you confessed to a crime you didn't commit, then I strongly urge you to get some professional help. Confessing to a capital crime is a serious matter, and so is wasting the Court's time and resources." Then the Judge looked at Crowley, who was sitting in a chair beside the defendant's table, shackled and handcuffed. "Mr. Hudson will be taken back to the prison, to await his own trial," the Judge continued. Then, he looked at Frank. Gail's brother was sitting in the front row as he had for the entire proceeding, along with Jody, Dean, Sam, Paul and Kevin. The latter couple had intended to attend the trial earlier on, but they'd both come down with some kind of a virus. Paul was staring at Crowley. Why did he have the very strong feeling he'd seen that man somewhere before?

"My condolences to you and your family for your loss," Judge Curtis said to Frank now. "Regardless of how these types of proceedings turn out, we officers of the court sometimes lose sight of the fact that at the heart of every capital case there are people who loved the decedent, people who have to go on living their daily lives without the victim. I'm aware of your suffering, and I regret that it has had to occur." He picked up his new gavel and banged it once on the desktop. "This proceeding is over. The Defendant is free to go." Then the Judge got up and left the courtroom.

Castiel was morose. The Judge had been speaking to Frank, he knew, but his words also applied to Cas, more so than the man knew. Now Castiel had to go out there and live a meaningless existence, without the only person he had ever loved. Where would he go? What should he do?

Crowley was led past him, but Cas couldn't work up the energy to be enraged with his brother right now. After all, hadn't Castiel been the author of his own misfortune? He had gone about his existence the wrong way for much too long. Death wasn't to be his true punishment. His true punishment was life.

"Don't look so glum, Castiel," Crowley said to him. "I'm sure that our Father will see fit to release you. Eventually. He always has before, hasn't He? Things always turn out all right for you in the end, despite my best efforts."

"Hey, you tea-sucking son of a bitch," Frank called out to Crowley. "I'll see you at your trial."

"Do you think so?" Crowley said, raising an eyebrow. He didn't plan on being here that long. Once the lights winked out in the jailhouse tonight, so would the King. He had only chosen to remain this long to ensure that the trial reached its proper conclusion.

"Don't worry; I'm sure we'll all see each other again," Crowley said to Frank's group, "in one capacity, or another. Make sure you all behave yourselves, though, or you may find it's on the wrong end of the transaction."

He was led away, and as they all looked at each other and wondered what he'd meant by that, Cas looked at them sadly from across the room. If the circumstances had been different, he might have been able to walk over there and tell Frank how he felt. They had both loved Gail, and they had both lost her. Maybe Frank would put his arm around Cas's shoulders and invite him for a drink, so that they could commiserate about how miserable life was without her. Maybe he could bond with Gail's friends, and help them in their day-to-day endeavours. Would that help to show the Father how sorry Castiel truly was for everything he had done?

Frank looked over at Cas, and they made eye contact. Gail's brother supposed he should go over there, and show the guy a little compassion. He hadn't killed Gail, after all. His own brother had, for reasons that were a mystery to Frank. Cas looked so sad and alone, just standing there with his hands at his sides. Even his lawyer was gone. Bob had considered offering his hand to Cas to congratulate him, but in the end, the public defender had merely packed up his briefcase and left the courtroom.

Dean clapped a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Come on. Me and Sammy'll buy you breakfast," he said to his friend.

The six of them filed out of the courtroom, leaving a despondent Cas behind, without a second glance at him. He nodded to himself. Had he really expected otherwise?

Cas walked slowly out of the building. It was a bright, sunny day. The weather was completely incongruous to the way he felt. Had he not been mortal, the clouds would have grown dark, and a steady rain would be falling. But the sun was shining, birds were singing, and children were playing happily in the park across the street.

Cas walked over to the park and sat on a bench by the flower garden. Gail had liked roses. He was going to make a wreath out of the nicest ones and take it to the spot where he'd proposed to her, in a minute. And then...what? What would he do?

"Mommy, why is that man crying?" a little girl asked, pointing to the bench.

"What man?" her mother asked, puzzled. The bench her daughter was pointing to was empty.